The Welfare of the Dead by Lee Jackson Page A

composed. ‘No, she cannot have gone far. Lucy!’
    Both Richard Langley and Annabel Krout join in and shout the little girl’s name; but there is no reply, nor any sign of her in the wide, grassy expanse of the park. A few strollers and passers-by turn their heads, but that is all.
    â€˜What is she wearing?’ asks Langley.
    â€˜A little white frock, very plain,’ says Mrs. Woodrow, not looking at her interlocutor, then hurriedly adding, ‘I mean to say, she is wearing that, but she has her shawl, and winter coat on top, and a beret.’
    â€˜They’re a reddish brown,’ says Annabel.
    â€˜Cremorne brown,’ adds Mrs. Woodrow, a particular that Annabel cannot help but think is unnecessary.
    â€˜Would she have gone back to the Zoo?’ suggests Annabel.
    â€˜She might,’ says Mrs. Woodrow, as tears well up in her eyes. ‘Oh dear! Mr. Langley, you must forgive me, it’s merely . . . oh, you must help us look for her! She might be anywhere!’
    â€˜Of course I’ll help, ma’am,’ says Langley, ‘but I suggest the best thing for you to do is to wait here, in case she returns or someone brings her back to where she left you. I will run back to the Zoo and inquire at the gate, and have the keepers look for her. And if either of us sees a policeman, then I suggest we enlist his assistance.’
    â€˜A policeman?’ exclaims Mrs. Woodrow breathlessly, giving every appearance of being on the brink of fainting.
    â€˜I am sure she is fine, ma’am,’ he says. ‘I only meant as a precaution.’

    Lucy Woodrow climbs up the wooden steps to the platform beside the elephant, then clambers a little unsteadily on to the seat, her feet slipping on the carpet laid upon its back.
    â€˜She’s not with us,’ exclaims the boy next to her.
    â€˜My mama’s over there,’ she says in reply, without pointing to any particular direction. ‘She doesn’t like elephants.’
    â€˜Here,’ says a keeper, bending over, and pulling a leather strap tight across her waist. ‘That’s it. Are you ready?’
    Lucy nods. Her fellow passengers add their assent, and the seat suddenly bumps, as the elephant begins its circuit of the Zoo.
    But it is not as Lucy Woodrow had imagined. For she finds the seat rather uncomfortable and the strap chafes against her stomach, even though she hangs on ever so tightly.
    Bump, bump.
    Moreover, the people below do not look half so diminished as Lucy had expected. And she has no-one to whom she might wave.
    Bump, bump.
    The disappointment is such that it is all she can do to prevent herself from crying.
    Bump, bump, bump.
    At last, the creature stops. She returns to the platform, with a helping hand from a keeper, and runs directly back down the steps.
    Then another hand grips her arm; a man’s hand.
    â€˜Are you lost?’

    â€˜Oh, Mr. Langley, thank goodness! You found her!’
    Richard Langley strolls towards Mrs. Woodrow and Annabel Krout, holding the hand of Lucy Woodrow, who trots along beside him, rather red-faced, though it is hard to say whether with shame or simple breathlessness. Mrs. Woodrow, her face ashen, hurries directly towards them, and hugs her daughter to her side.
    â€˜You stupid, naughty girl,’ she exclaims, then bursts into tears. Lucy obliges by doing likewise. It is a moment or two before either can relent.
    â€˜Mr. Langley,’ says Mrs. Woodrow at last, retrieving a handkerchief from her bag, and drying her eyes, ‘you must forgive me. I am quite overcome. How can I repay you?’
    â€˜Anyone would have found her, ma’am; she was quite safe,’ says Langley. ‘I believe she took a ride on an elephant.’
    â€˜Well, this is the last time we visit the Zoo, young lady,’ exclaims Mrs. Woodrow, at which Lucy begins to cry once more. Her mother, however, deliberately ignores the outburst.
    â€˜Perhaps,’ she